The Story of a Persimmon That Tried to Become a Radish

The other day, I was able to say this to my father and mother:
Thank you for giving birth to me.
Thank you for raising me.
I was able to say this.

Even when I got married and left home,
I didn't even say a proper goodbye.

What happened to me as I approached 50?
Looking back, I was slowly remembering things like this.

Living your own life
Living your own life is not just about being understood by someone.

No matter how much meaning you put into the path you choose,
from the outside, people may have impressions that are beyond your imagination.

Lazy, heretic, eccentric, spoiled, running away

When exposed to those gazes and words,
the pain of not being understood slowly spreads through my heart.

In the loneliness where no one understands me,
there are moments when anxiety crosses my mind about whether my choices are truly correct.

As a child, I thought my parents' values were absolute,
and because I ignored the beautiful values that welled up from within me,
I have broken both my body and my mind.

They say 'peaches and chestnuts take three years, persimmons take eight,' but
if I, who am actually meant to ripen over time like a persimmon,
try to produce results immediately like a radish
to meet the expectations of those around me, it would naturally be unbearably painful.
It's bound to break my body and mind.

Furthermore, there are things I have come to understand after living this long.

Even if you try, things don't always go as planned.
In days when nothing goes right,
you may harbor a sense of impatience or despair that makes you want to writhe in agony deep within your chest.

That sense of loneliness where I thought there was no one who understood me.

Even so,

whether you can maintain your own pace amidst those headwinds,
and continue walking in the direction you believe in.
I think that is where true strength is tested.

Being misunderstood, loneliness, love, and headwinds.
Of course, the absolute allies, supporters, and companions who appear from time to time.
All of it together is what it means to 'live as yourself'.

The other day, I celebrated my birthday,
and I found myself naturally saying to my mother, 'Thank you for giving birth to me.'
It was a change of heart that would have been unthinkable for me a few years ago.

In the past, I didn't even feel a sense of gratitude.
Perhaps that is because, ever since I was a child,
I had lived my life trying to meet my mother's expectations.

Extremely afraid of failure, rather than taking on challenges,
I only chose things within my own capabilities.
The frustration, disappointment, and despair I felt toward myself
may have been what was plucking away
the buds of gratitude.

Shortly after I started working,
I dropped out before even six months had passed.
Due to poor health, I was no longer in a condition where I could possibly commute to work.

For me, that was a time to pause and re-examine myself.
What was I suited for,
what was I good at—
I wanted to search for those things with all my might.

But to my mother, it only looked like I had
"fallen off the tracks of life."
She told me to hurry up and return to society, no matter what.

In the end, I spent over half a year "unemployed."

My parents showed no understanding,
and while being branded as nothing more than a slacker,
I struggled and suffered in my heart.
The fact that my pain was not understood was the hardest part of all.
Even now, that resentment from back then might still remain deep in my heart.

No, actually, it doesn't.

That period when I did nothing.
I had nothing to do but play games,
and while I was metaphorically eating mud (though I wasn't actually eating it),
those days spent crying now feel nostalgic.

There are things I learned from staying home for several months without working.

Doing nothing did not suit my nature.
It was simply painful.
By the time a month had passed, I was already tired of resting,
and a desire to do something had begun to sprout.

"What is it that I want to do?"

While repeating those self-questions every day, I encountered
my current profession: graphic design.

Unable to work for a company,
when I chose the path of freelancing,
my parents did not understand that either.

But I decided to walk that path.

And now, more than 25 years later,
my mother and father have finally come to accept
my individuality in its entirety.
Perhaps that is why I have naturally come to feel
grateful to my parents.

On my birthday the other day,
the words, "Thank you for giving birth to me, thank you for raising me,"
came out naturally, honestly, and truly from my heart.
That was the greatest proof of my own change.

Living your own life
might be close to living without being understood by others.

No, to be precise, it might be about whether you would choose it
even if you were forced to make the ultimate choice:
would you still choose it even if you had no supporters?

There is probably no environment where everyone will unanimously agree with you.
Support is born from people who empathize
with the way you live your life and move forward with all your might.

In that process, you may sometimes feel the despair of not being understood.
Even so, you do not let go of the desire to be understood,
and you try to give shape to your wishes with hope.
I believe that is the way of being that moves people's hearts.

At first, no one will show understanding,
and it is expected that people will take a skeptical attitude.
That might just be the default.

However, because of the noise from the outside,
I can now think that I am glad I did not give up on myself.
And despite all the back and forth,
I can now feel that my family is supporting me.
Living one's own life means,
while continuing to maintain your core even if others do not understand you,
it also means not giving up on the effort to be understood.

Like a persimmon that has ripened over time,
perhaps I, too, have finally become able to taste
the sweetness of the fruit that is myself.